Inheritance
by becky2102
Summary: We all have our baggage. Some ends up meaning more than others.


Inherit – Chapter 1

"You have got to be kidding? You don't actually believe that do you?" Olivia said with a smile as she and Elliot strode into the squadroom.

"Of course," Elliot replied.

"What's the topic of debate today?" John Munch asked, approaching their desks.

Olivia was unloading files from her messenger bag as she said, "Elliot thinks that Maureen never broke his rules about talking to boys OR her curfew." She said it in such a way that made it clear that she thought it was the most ridiculous thing she had ever heard.

"She was never in trouble," Elliot defended himself. "She was always responsible. Kathleen though, Kathleen….She is always getting herself into a mess and pushing the boundaries."

"And I am saying that all teenagers push the limits, it's what they do as they develop their own sense of self. She was just smart enough to not get caught, something Kathleen hasn't quite figured out yet," Olivia replied with a smirk.

"You sound like you are speaking from experience," Munch said. "Raised a lot of teenage girls, have you?"

"No, but I used to BE a teenaged girl. I did my fair share of sneaking out and coming home late," Olivia replied. "And I remember that no consequence would really make me stop."

"Sowed your wild oats, did you?" Elliot replied.

Olivia shrugged. "Sure, I pushed the limits. Didn't you?"

Elliot just looked down and shrugged. Olivia smirked, knowing she had won that debate and began to look through her messages. Seeing nothing urgent she pulled the file from the top of the pile and began to read through it.

"Hey guys," Cragen walked towards them from his office. "Warner wants to see you two down at the morgue." He gestured towards Olivia and Elliot. "And I want you two," gesturing Fin and John, "to go talk to the parents of that girl again. Try to nail down the timeline."

All four detectives stood and grabbed their coats. Olivia paused as her cell phone rang, answering her phone as she shrugged her coat back on.

"Benson." A pause. "Hi Scott," she said in a surprised voice. "Really? When?" She sighed. "Yeah, almost 9 years." Another pause. "No, I said before I don't want that. It has to be long term. Come on, Scottie, stop busting my lady balls." She chuckled. "Yeah, let me know what you need." She hung up the phone and sighed, making a small face to herself.

"Everything okay?" Elliot asked.

"Um, yeah, fine," she said. "Let's go."

"So who's Scottie?" he asked with a grin.

"No one," she replied. Looking over at Elliot who was wagging his eyebrows at her, she said "It's not what you're thinking, El. I promise it's not nearly that exciting."

One Week Later:

Olivia and Elliot were heading uptown to interview a family about a recent rape accusation. As they pulled onto 8th Avenue and immediately stopped at a red light Olivia glanced at her watch and sighed. As they crawled uptown and Olivia checked her watch for the umpteenth time, Elliot finally couldn't stand it any longer.

"You know time passes twice as slowly when you are watching the clock," he said. "You in a hurry?"

"I have an appointment at 5pm. Can't miss it." Olivia replied, looking at her watch again.

"Well, it's only 2pm, you should be fine. Stop checking your watch, it's driving me nuts," Elliot said as he turned onto a side street and pulled into a loading zone and parked.

Three hours and a few minutes later they were getting back to their car. "Well, that was a waste," Olivia grumbled. The family, while honest and trying to be helpful, had basically no information that would help their investigation.

As they headed back down the Westside Highway, Olivia piped up "Hey, Elliot, can you do me a favor?" Elliot looked at her questioningly. Head down 86th Street and drop me off, maybe I can still make it."

"Yeah, sure," he replied as he changed lanes. As he headed east on W 86th St, towards the park, Olivia was leaning forward. Midway between Columbus and Central Park West she said "Here, pull over here." She swung her bag over her shoulder. "This should only take 10 minutes, 15 tops. If you wait I'll help you finish off the paperwork," she said to him.

"Sure," he replied and she flashed him a grin as she climbed out of the car. Elliot threw the car into park and settle back in the seat as he watched his partner climb the steps of a well-cared for brownstone. He watched her knock, then ring the bell, then check her watch and knock again. Just as she turned to head down the steps she saw a woman and a little girl approach with a boisterous golden retriever on a leash. They spoke and then climbed the stairs and entered the porch.

Olivia's heart sank when there wasn't an answer at the door. She REALLY needed to get this taken care of today. She glanced at her watch and knocked again. She turned, frustrated, and started down the steps when she noticed the little girl being dragged by a very friendly, very excited golden retriever.

As the dog ran up the steps the girl hollered, being dragged by the leash, "Barney! Wait! Heel! I said heel!" The dog paid no attention, but did stop to sniff the tree.

Olivia smiled at her antics as the woman said "Olivia?"

The detective looked up and smiled. "Beverly. I'm so glad I caught you. Sorry I'm late, we got caught up in a case. Do you have time now?"

"Sure, come on in," the woman said.

Olivia followed the woman inside and stood aside as the woman called "Barney. Come." The golden retriever obediently jogged up the steps followed by the little girl.

"Hi," Olivia said to the girl, "You must be Abby. I haven't seen you since you were a very little baby." The girl, suddenly shy, nodded and skirted behind her mother. Olivia smiled at her as the woman closed the door.

Elliot watched the interaction perplexed. He still had no idea what she was doing there. His partner was reliably private, always an enigma. He shrugged and flipped through the papers in the file.

As promised, 15 minutes later Olivia was knocking on the window of the sedan.

A few weeks later, they had all been called into work on the Sunday of a holiday weekend because of a missing child report. A father had taken his kids to the skating rink in Central Park and one of them went missing. The squadroom was bustling with uniformed officers and disheveled detectives. As they headed out to canvas the scene, Olivia's phone rang and she answered it tersely.

"Benson. Hey, Scott. Yeah, thought it was going fine. What do you mean? A _cashier's check_? You have GOT to be kidding me. Yeah, yeah. _Both of them? _ Seriously, I don't have time for this now. Hmmm. No, I mean it." Elliot was gesturing to her frantically. She tossed him the keys and followed him out of the building. Taking the stairs down so she wouldn't lose the cell signal she exited the building just as Elliot was starting the engine of the sedan. She was still arguing with the man on the phone. "No. How am I going to do that on the Sunday of a holiday weekend? They know that, they're just trying to slow down the work so they get a day off too. Give them my credit card to charge today, that's as good as I can do now." She shrugged in the seat getting to her pocket book. She rattled off the card number as Elliot spun through the streets of Manhattan. She closed her phone with a scowl.

"Damn," she muttered under her breath. Elliot looked over at her.

"Problem?" he asked.

"Who demands payment by way of CASHIER'S CHECK on the Sunday of a holiday weekend. They say they won't finish the work until they get it," she grumbled.

"Renovations? Doesn't your building management take care of that?" he asked.

"It's complicated," she replied.

"I guess," Elliot responded. "You know, I'm pretty handy around the house, I could…"

"Offering your services?" Olivia chuckled at him. "No thanks, I don't even want to know the last time you changed a lightbulb." She swung her door open as they reached the scene, barely waiting for her partner to stop the car.

0

The weeks passed without too much out of the ordinary. There were hard cases and the occasional horrific case, but nothing too life shattering for any of the detectives.

One day, as the detectives were briefing the details of the case in the squadroom, they were interrupted by a voice.

"Excuse me, Captain, I'm going to need a couple of your detectives. Detectives Benson, Stabler. Come with me." The voice spoke with authority and dripped with the enjoyment he was trying to cover up as he smirked at the group.

"Tucker," Cragen spoke, "What does IAB need with my detectives? We are kind of in the middle of a situation right now." Lt. Tucker stood with another officer who could best be described as a henchman. He didn't speak, but stood in the background and followed Tucker wherever he went.

"It can wait. I need them to, ah, _clarify_ some things, shall we say. Now. Detectives…" He gestured towards one of the empty meeting rooms.

Olivia and Elliot looked at their captain for help. Cragen gestured towards the room. "Just get it over with you guys. There is no getting around it at this point."

Once in the room, Elliot spoke. "Look, Tucker, what is it this time? Will you just leave us alone, this is getting kind of ridiculous."

"Sit down, Detective." Tucker spoke with a tone that made Olivia's blood boil. He knew they hated him. He also knew they had to do what he said. He gestured towards the chairs and Olivia and Elliot reluctantly sat uncomfortably in them.

"Detective Benson, perhaps you would like to explain to me why you are getting undisclosed cash payments from an unknown asset-holder? And Detective Stabler, perhaps you would like to sit quietly while your partner explains herself. We brought you in as a bit of a, shall we say, moral support for Benson here. Though where there is one dirty cop, the partner is more likely involved as well…"

With that accusation, both Olivia and Elliot started shouting. Elliot was up out of his chair. Tucker took the binder he was carrying and slammed it onto the table, effectively silencing the room.

He took out what appeared to be bank statements and slid them across the table toward Olivia. "Detective, I assume these are familiar to you? You have received multiple payments deposited to your accounts in the past month, with no clear record of where this money is coming from. One is for $3,342, one for $2,071 and one for a whopping $7,178.21. You need to explain this or we will be forced to pull you off duty until we can assure the public that there is no faulty behavior going on. Care to give it a shot?"

Olivia eyeballed him with a steely glare. She'd dealt with him before, and wasn't about to make his life easy. "May I see those?" she asked in an even voice. Tucker slid the two pieces of paper across the table. She glanced at them, noting quickly the highlighted transactions, and slid them back. "I would like to know why you are puruesing our bank accounts so intently that you find a discrepancy like this so quickly. It makes me wonder if you are paying unmerited attention to my finances. It also makes me wonder WHY you think these signify something illegal. I, we, work with rape victims and abuse survivors. There's not a lot of money in either of those populations." She sat calmly and stared across the table.

Tucker stared back just as coolly. "Perhaps not with the victims, but I imagine a few perpetrators might pay mightily to avoid arrest."

"Okay," Olivia spoke, standing up. "You CANNOT walk in here and insult and accuse me AND my partner of being dirty cops. This is a crock of shit. Do your homework, Tucker, don't just come prancing in here accusing us of some made-up dirty business. You are wasting your time, my time, my partner's time AND the city's money. Now, I have actual work to do. I don't want to see your ugly mug again until you have, like a real detective, done your background work." With that she stood and walked quickly out into the squadroom, slamming the door behind her. The entirety of the squadroom was watching after she slammed the door, and they saw Elliot walk slowly out behind her. She walked up to the group and said "Sorry for the interruption, can we get started again?"

The group of detectives silently watched Tucker and his henchmen retreat out of the room. As exited, Fin said "So, we know where Chelsea O'Conner spent her last few hours: a bar on W 17th Street…"

After the briefing, Cragen approached Olivia as the group broke up and began to work their leads. "Benson, Stabler, are we going to have a problem?"

"I dunno, Cap, ask Olivia," Elliot replied, looking pointedly at his partner.

Olivia's eyes got wide as she heard her partners reponse. "Uh, no, Captain. I am sure Tucker will pull his head from his ass. It won't be an issue, " Olivia replied.

"What is the issue then?" Cragen asked, wanting to know what his detectives were being accused of this time. Olivia looked him in the eye, silently begging him to not have to discuss this in front of everyone. Don Cragen got the hint. "My office Benson. Now." He turned and walked into his office, letting the door close emphatically, if not angrily.

Olivia's eyes were full of ice and fire as she looked at her partner. "Hey, thanks for backing me there," she said sarcastically. "Good to know you always are standing behind me."

Elliot walked towards her and said in low voice, "Ten grand, Liv? Who the hell is giving you ten grand? And why?"

"It's a long story, El. I promise you it's legit." She couldn't believe she was having to defend herself to her partner.

"So legit you had to keep it a secret?" he shot back.

"It's not a secret!" she said, exasperated. "It's a non-issue as far as I am concerned."

"Well, someone should tell Tucker than before he hangs us both out to dry," Elliot said.

From across the room, Cragen hollered, "Benson, I said NOW."

Olivia flashed one more look at Elliot and headed for her bosses office. She entered quietly. "I'm sorry, Captain. I can't believe the stuff he is pulling."

"What is his excuse this time?" Cragen asked.

Olivia sighed and looked down. She didn't think she was going to get out of this without an explanation. She took a deep breath. "When my mother died, all her assets went into the trust. I am the sole beneficiary. I normally don't touch the thing, but there were some issues earlier this month and I had to take care of the expenses. When I was reimbursed by the trust it raised red flags on whatever creepy surveillance Tucker has on us. If he had bothered to do ANY sort of background check he would find it is perfectly explainable and LEGAL. I've declared the trust on all the financial documents for the department in the past. It's just Tucker being a pain in the ass. It'll clear."

"You're sure?" Cragen asked.

"Positive," Olivia replied.

"Good, now go do your job. IAB has wasted enough of this unit's time today," Cragen said firmly. Olivia was up and halfway out the door before the sentence was complete.

As she approached her desk, Elliot was shrugging on his coat. Her coat was on her chair. "Warner says she wants to see us says she found something we'll want to see in person."

"Elliot?" Olivia asked as they walked towards the elevator. She was putting her coat on as she walked. He looked over at her. She definitely had a look of concern on her face. He wouldn't exactly call it worried, but it definitely made her appear anxious.

Olivia knew that IAB wouldn't find anything damning; she wasn't dirty. She was however, very concerned that Elliot had been dragged into the whole mess. She was also concerned about his reaction. He couldn't possibly think that she was taking money from someone, could he?

Lost in thought, Olivia didn't reply right away. Finally, Elliot pushed again. "Olivia, what is it? Spit it out."

"You don't really think that I'm taking money from suspects, do you?" she asked, a defensive edge to her voice. The thought made her both livid and sad at the same time.

The elevator doors opened before he could answer. As they waited for the doors to close he squinted his eye and gave her a contemplative look.

"No," he said simply.

"Took you a while to answer that," Olivia replied.

"Yeah, well, I know you're not crooked, but someone gave you $10K, so I'm trying to figure out who, why and how I can get some. I'm the one with four college educations that need to be paid for," he joked.

"No one GAVE me the money, Elliot. I had to front the money for the renovations that were being done and I was finally given my money back. My credit cards were taking a beating," she said.

Before she could complete her sentence, Elliot jumped back in. "Olivia, I was at your place last night, and last week and the week before that. There were no renovations in your apartment."

Olivia sighed. There was no way around it, she would have to tell Elliot. "It's not for my apartment. It's for my mother's."

"Your mother's?" Elliot asked, slightly confused. "Liv, your mom died what, 8, 9 years ago?"

The elevator dinged as they arrived on the first floor. Suspending their conversation while navigating around the busy first floor, when they go outside, Olivia finally said, "When my mom died, all of her assets went into a trust, including her old place on W 86th St." She paused, trying to figure what else to say. "I rented it out. I didn't want to sell it. At the time I thought someday maybe I would live there…but it's just me still…" She had thought at the time that when she married, had a few kids, the space would be welcome, but since that never happened she was more than happy in her own apartment. "Anyway, it's too big for just me so I've been renting it. The tenants have been there for almost 9 years now and they are moving. She bought the thing in the 70s and not much had been updated. The place needs some major fixes before I can rent it again and the contractors I got were giving me a hard time about a check from the trust account, so I paid and got reimbursed from the trust. Apparently IAB doesn't like it anymore than the contractors," she grumbled.

Elliot was processing this. It seemed so straight-forward the way she was telling it. He couldn't help but wonder why she never mentioned this before. Remembering the appointment he dropped her off for a few weeks back, he asked "West 86th St? That's where we stopped the other day? That place looked nicer than your apartment, why not take the extra bedroom and give up your place? What floor was she on?"

Olivia didn't understand the question. What floor? Then it dawned on her. He thought the building had been converted to apartments, like so many of the brownstones on the Upper West Side. "No, El, um…" How do you tell someone you've been sitting on over a million dollars worth of property? "It's just the house. There are no apartments."

He stared at her, incredulously. "You mean to tell me your mother lived in a brownstone a half block from the park and then left you that property and you've been living in a one bedroom apartment in Hell's Kitchen?"

"Yeah, well, it's too big for just me, I'd have to keep it clean and I'm never there anyway," she defended herself. "It's just easier to let the property manager deal with it all. IAB is so full of shit. If they even bothered to do the bare minimum of background research they would have found out all of that. They are just doing it to annoy us, throw their weight around and embarrass me."

"Embarrass you? What do you mean?" Elliot asked.

"Come on, El. I'm a cop. We don't make huge salaries. It seemed like a poor financial move to sell it, but I can't exactly tell people about it without them getting the wrong idea."

"What idea would that be again?" he asked.

"That I had a privileged upbringing in a fancy house and am benefitting financially from my mother's investments. She paid $30K for that house in 1971 and my childhood there was less than idyllic. New York was different then and my mother, well…" She drifted off, not wanted to describe the details of her unfortunate childhood. Her partner knew those well enough.

"ARE you benefitting financially from her investments?" Elliot asked. He asked it in a casual tone, and she knew this was her friend asking, not her work partner.

"No, not really. When she died I took a what was left from her pension and was able to buy my apartment when it went coop that year. That's the only time. I mostly ignore it."

"Shit, Liv! You OWN that place? I thought you were renting all this time." Elliot was still a little shocked to find out all these things he didn't know about his partner. He didn't know why he was constantly being surprised. She never really shared that much with him."

She shrugged and they got in the sedan to head downtown.


End file.
